


In Which Art Is Discussed

by ElDiablito_SF



Series: The Fabulous Adventures in Immortality of the Vampire Aramis and the Man Who Named the Mountain, Volume V, Missing Scenes [2]
Category: Les Trois Mousquetaires | The Three Musketeers - Alexandre Dumas
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Immortality AU Timestamp, M/M, Sucky and Fucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-17
Updated: 2017-01-17
Packaged: 2018-09-17 19:00:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9338660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElDiablito_SF/pseuds/ElDiablito_SF
Summary: The Disgustoids watchVersailles.  Or try to, anyways.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Donna_Immaculata](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Donna_Immaculata/gifts).



> Happy birthday, Donna! Look, I tried to combine your favorite things: bitchiness and porns.
> 
> (If you're here but you have not read the Immortality AU, then you will be very confused, but there will still be porn, so...)

**Undisclosed Location, January 17, 2017**

“You can just put the remote down, you know,” I pointed out to Aramis. “There’s no need to brandish it when we’re watching Netflix.”

“He who holds the remote, holds the power.”

“Then give it to fucking Grimley,” I laughed. “You know he’s the only one around here with any actual power.”

“Indeed. Sirs will never learn to iron and fold their own shirts,” a nuisance pronounced from behind the sofa. “May I ask, what gay porn will sirs be watching tonight?”

“ _Versailles_ ,” Aramis replied with a sly eyebrow wiggle.

“Is that truly _wise_?” The Grigori leaned over the couch and hovered in between us. “Last time sirs attempted to watch a historical reenactment, Kyrios ended up in tears and Master Aramis broke the television by launching his shoe at the screen.”

“That’s because _The_ …”

“Don’t say its name!” the Grigori admonished.

“ _The Abomination_ ,” Aramis continued, “was libelous and offensive towards us like nothing else has ever been! Even Paul ‘What the Shit’ Anderson was somehow less offensive. You know, I’m still contemplating eating everyone involved in the project!”

“Except Porthos,” I pointed out.

“Except Porthos,” Aramis agreed. “Although I still cannot believe he played _himself_ in that horror!”

“He’s always done best by hiding in plain sight,” I shrugged, biting my lips to prevent a giggling outburst. 

“They made me _stupid_ , Athos! And they made _you_...”

“Can we please watch the show now?” I interrupted, looking over at my lover, who still clutched the remote like a dagger.

“Of course, my love.”

“I’ll go get the tissues and a mop, just in case,” Grimley pronounced and scampered off.

The show, such as it was, started off with a bit of unexpected historical accuracy. 

“Is that man wiping off the King’s jizz from the royal stomach? Is he the Royal Jizz Wiper?” Aramis snorted.

“Any good Grigori would do the same,” I grinned back. “Many was the night that Grimaud had to clean off my own nocturnal emissions in the days when we lived apart in Paris.”

“I certainly hope you were having those emissions over _me_.”

“Who else, chertyonok mine?”

“Some orange-squeezing bint, apparently!”

“You know, Louis was not this attractive in real life,” I felt compelled to point out. “Or that tall.”

“No, I distinctly remember towering over him by nearly a foot. He was roughly d’Artagnan’s height, was he not?”

The screen’s attention had then turned towards the Sun King’s younger brother, whom we found mid-phelatio with his long time companion, the Chevalier de Lorraine.

“What a time to be alive, chyortik!” I pronounced. “One of these days, I have a feeling, sodomy will not be as woefully out of fashion again. The tide is turning.”

“Keep hoping, Discord!” my beloved snapped and pointed to the TV with the remote. “See??? They just got interrupted! And, more prudishly, they have all their clothes still on.”

“They’re in shirtsleeves,” I protested weakly.

“Their trousers are still on! Both of them!”

“That _is_ reprehensible,” I admitted. “But look, sweetling, the Monsieur’s hair is very nice.” I grinned. “Almost as nice as chyortik’s hair.”

“How _dare_ you?” Aramis hissed, veering towards me on the sofa. “Take it back!”

“But look at it, darling,” I went on, undeterred. “Look at the way it falls down in perfectly coiffed curls. He’s quite pretty too, don’t you think?”

“You will know my wrath like no man has ever.” The dark of Aramis’ eyes became even more black as he inched closer to me. “Take back those offensive words.”

“I said _almost_ as nice as chyortik’s hair. To be fair,” I pointed at the TV where the two royal siblings were engaged in some kind of a fabulous hair-off, “ _that_ is most likely a wig.”

Aramis’ fangs dropped and his hand curled into the collar of my shirt, ripping it away from my neck. “Say my hair is the prettiest,” he growled against my earlobe.

“Or what?”

“I’ll show you fucking what, you insolent pagan vestige!”

“You have the prettiest hair in this household,” I teased and let my thighs spread further along the sofa to accommodate him shifting into my lap.

His teeth dragged sweetly along the tendons of my neck and I closed my eyes in anticipation. Back on the television screen, someone was rampantly engaging in heteronormative intercourse. Perhaps sodomy’s time had truly not come back yet, I had to allow for such a thing, despite the fact that it was now legal in all fifty states of the American Union, or what not. I raised my hand and let my own fingers sink into the silken, dark curls falling over Aramis’ shoulders.

“Really? You’re not going to admit that Philippe on this show is very pretty?” I asked and was rewarded with the sharp stabbing of fangs into my jugular. They entered my flesh as into soft butter, sinking with a wet sound, and making me melt. “Ah..,” a satisfied sigh escaped my lips as his hand pulled on my own hair, craning my neck backwards against the sofa.

“You deviant,” he whispered against my rapidly heating skin.

Beneath the weight of him straddling my thighs, my cock jolted and grew along the crease of my fly.

“I should tease you and never let you come,” Aramis threatened, dragging his bloodstained fangs along my lower lip.

“Where’s the fun in that, sweet bun?” His hand reached into my fly and his nails dug underneath the heft of my sack. “You’re not exactly the epitome of self-control either, are you, Aramis?” I reached around him, my own hands rapidly finding their way into his pants. To be precise, into his yoga pants. “What are you _wearing_ , Aramis?” My hands readily contoured against the tight mounds of his magnificent ass. “Did you go out in public like this? You’re going to get yourself arrested for being too pornographic.”

“Getting arrested is really still _your_ area of expertise, isn’t it?” He ground down against my rapidly hardening cock and into my hands.

“If you’re not going to ride my cock right now, I shall have to call the police,” I told him.

“Look who’s in no position to issue demands!”

“You’re the prettiest and your hair is the most amazing hair that’s ever haired, I swear to all the fucking gods!”

He laughed against my mouth and allowed me to shimmy his tight pants down his narrow hips.

“Lube?”

“Mhm.” My hand was already enthusiastically reaching in between the sofa’s cushions to find what was surely still hidden in their crevices. He kissed me with growing hunger and evident impatience as I popped the lid on the small tube and let the clear slick coat my fingers. Whoever invented this stuff was truly doing the gods’ work.

Before long, I had him impaled on my cock and bouncing up and down with the usual enthusiasm that he normally applied to making me lose my fucking mind. His back undulated beneath the palms of my hands, graceful and strong like a river current. The place where my cock was disappearing into him radiated solar amounts of heat and I could not take my eyes off of it until he grabbed me by my neck and forced my chin up.

“Look at me.”

“Yes, love.”

“Do you like what you see?”

“The most beautiful boy in the world,” I nodded, letting my hands run up and down his perspiration-slicked torso, pausing to give one of his nipples a firm twist. He threw back his head and clenched down around my cock with all his might. “Fuck--!”

I grabbed him by the hair, that luxurious hair that was such a point of pride and discussion, and pulled him into a searing kiss. My tongue explored the burning cavern of his mouth with reckless abandon. His fangs were still dropped, sharp and poised against the pad of my tongue as I probed along his teeth. He moaned into my mouth and that sweet sound trickled down the back of my throat, like heavy mead.

“Come inside me,” he whispered and resumed kissing me, his nose dragging softly along the contours of my face and into the heat of my own mouth, lips suddenly everywhere as our mouths sought nothing but familiar skin to taste and to feel.

My hips stuttered up into him at such an invitation, the explosion of my orgasm sending shocks of pleasure all the way from my balls into the very back of my head, making my hair rise. Everything around me was sweat and spit. I brought my hand to the orifice still firmly clenched around my spent cock, and felt my seed dribble out of him into my fingers. 

“Oh my,” said a petulant voice behind me. “It really is a good thing I had returned with these tissues and a mop, isn’t it, Kyrios?”

At that precise moment, neither one of us had the wherewithal to scold him.


End file.
